A spectre at the feast

Tuesday February 14, 2006

“You’re full of cold,” I said.

Might seem a strange greeting but when your better half settles into the car seat beside you, sneezes, wheezes and drips uncontrollably, demands tissues and turns up the heater, I think somehow that it was justified.

“No I’m not. It’s my sinus thingies.”

“Yeah. That’s what a cold generally is, at first.”

“I’m sure you’re wrong. I don’t do colds.”

And, for a while, it seemed he was right. We got home, made a great fuss of Dolly the Mega-cat, unpacked, and got the kettle boiling. A little later we opened the first of two bottles of Jacob’s Creek Semillon Chardonnay I’ve had chilling in the fridge the past couple of days and sat chatting and sipping while I started dinner. It was a merry reunion.

There was however a spectre at the feast. The sneezes started again, closely followed by the sniffles and a trip along the hall to turn up the thermostat.

“You’re full of cold,” I said.

“Hate to admit it but I think you’re right.”

“Aspirin, lemon and honey, and an early night for you, my lad.”

It wasn’t long before he was tucked up all warm and snug with a hot water bottle for comfort and I returned to sit at the dining table to watch the last part of a recorded episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer I’d taped while driving off to the station.

Outside a hunter’s moon sailed through a troubled sky and a lone owl hooted loneliness over the fens. Dolly the Mega-cat jumped up onto the table for a companionable snuggle at my side.

“Well, he’s back, Dolly,” I said. “But I think it’ll be a couple of days before he’s back the way we know him.”



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